


An Apple a Day

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal, Belly Expansion, Bladder Control, Bladder Inflation, Bondage, Desperation, Enemas, F/F, F/M, Inflation, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Torture, Urethral Play, bizarre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After a scuba diving holiday, I returned with a nasty rash and the doctor conducted some rather extreme 'treatment'...---Ambiguous gender OC is subjected to medical kink, water inflation, and bladder inflation all under the guise of medical treatment. First Person POV.





	An Apple a Day

It was bad news at the clinic. I had recently returned from an extended scuba diving holiday in Australia and realised that what I thought was sun burn on my nethers was actually a bad rash, it also stung like hell when I pissed and, fearing I had somehow contracted VD, I had to get to a doctor.

Unfortunately, while I could still afford insurance I figured that while I was between jobs and in Australia I could let it slip, and pay as I went if I needed healthcare, since I was rarely ill. Now back home I was trying to find any clinic that would see me quickly. That’s how I found myself in a run-down free clinic just outside of town. 

I had called ahead and was surprised they had slots available for the same day, weren’t they supposed to be overflowing with patients? My surprise only grew after I arrived and was buzzed in to the building and didn’t see a single other patient in the waiting room, which was really just a hallway with chairs lining one side of the wall. 

I walked up to the reception and a homely nurse sat at a desk took my name and ordered me down another hallway and to a room at the end. 

It was a basic procedure room - a bed for patients, three chairs, the doctors desk and the doctor himself. A myriad of different packages and boxed lined shelves along the wall.

After explaining to him my problem, and having my prod at me for a few minutes, and asking me about my travel history and how I spent my vacation he gave me his verdict.

With a kindly but firm tone the doctor said “I’m awfully sorry, but you have contracted a rare water-borne parasite that attaches itself to the human bladder. While it won’t cause any permanent damage, it does need to be treated with irrigation immediately on-site. We can’t afford to wait to find you a place in a hospital.” 

As he said this my stomach dropped. I thought it was just a rash! That it would go away with some pills or cream. I kicked myself for being so complacent about the intense burning and itching. 

“What will you do?” I asked with trepidation,

“Unfortunately we will need to cleanse both your bladder and small and large intestine. The parasites cling to the bladder, but can accidentally enter the anus and lay their eggs there, creating a cycle.” The thought of tiny creatures crawling around inside of me laying their eggs had me feeling queasy.

“Is it alright if we strap you in? The sudden feeling and slight burning can cause patients to rip out the equipment and harm themselves, it’s really the safest way. We’ll untie you once you’re comfortable.” I desperately didn’t want to be tied down as the doctor treated my nethers, but I didn’t think I had much choice and the risk of tearing anything down there was too much for me. 

“OK” 

Less than five minutes later I was strapped in and could barely move my arms or legs. The doctor left and the nurse came in with a trolley littered with an assortment of worrying looking instruments and so many hanging bags of liquid I was sure they couldn’t all be for me. Some had to be extras or back-ups.

Strapped in my legs were held slightly apart and my privates were fully on display to the nurse. I was certain she’d ‘seen it all before’, but it was still embarrassing.

She didn’t even acknowledge me as she snapped her gloves on and applied a cold gel to my urethral opening. “Unfortunately, due to the urgency of the situation we’ll need to use a wider catheter to allow a larger and faster flow than we usually would, so this might be quite painful.” The catheter she showed me was wider than a pencil, and I didn’t understand how it would fit without tearing, but I resigned myself to this and cursed my decision to go on a scuba diving holiday. 

“The enema is merely a preventative measure against any possible eggs spreading, and so can wait, but the parasites in your bladder must be sterilised as soon as possible so we’ll deal with that first.”

The nurse lubricated the catheter and started feeding it into my body the stretch burned worse than the itching I had been experiencing all week, but I bit my tongue to stop myself from asking her to take it out. Finally she stopped feeding it in and told me she’d inflated the balloon seal as she hooked up a large bag from the many that she’d bought in. 

“I’ll leave this bag to empty itself and then I’ll be back. Call if you need anything.” She said impassively. The foreign feeling of liquid entering my bladder, with nowhere to go left me feeling like I desperately needed to pee, but the pain the doctor had warned me of wasn’t there. 

I sat back cursing my situation and deciding that once this weird visit was over this would be something I’d laugh about with friends.

Once the bag was finally empty the nurse returned. “Now what?” I asked, impatient now that I thought the worst of it was over and that I desperately felt like peeing the solution out.

“There is still not enough solution inside you to fully sterilise the parasites” she said as she unhook the empty solution and replaced it with a full one. I felt my heart stammer at the thought of another load of solution dripping into me and I almost asked her to stop, but I’d gone this far with the treatment, and it would only be worse having to start it again. 

This cycle repeated over and over and I watched in shock as I could see my own bladder swelling under my skin, a firm dome-shaped lump below my belly button. I now understood why I was tied down - If I hadn’t been I’d have ripped the catheter out balloon and all just to get some release. It no longer felt like I just needed to pee, I had never felt this full before, it now felt like a great pressure was pushing on all of my innards and its only escape route was blocked off.

I finally broke and begged the nurse to stop so we could continue another day, but she just shushed me, shook her head and told me it was better to get it done with now as she replaced the bag yet again.

By the time the doctor came back in smiling warmly at me I was sobbing and trying to stop myself twitching to not aggravate my over-full bladder. 

“Good news” he said, slapping a hand onto my, now visibly huge, bladder, “the treatment has taken and we can now move onto cleansing your intestinal tract.” I felt like weeping with relief, it was finally over!

But then the doctor continued: “Of course, if we release the solution from your bladder before completing the intestinal tract cleanse there is a risk of eggs transferring and surviving.” Through my growing panic at the words and the overwhelming feeling of my stuffed bladder I managed to struggle out “Th-that…. doesn’t... make sense?” I finished weakly, desperate. 

The doctor tutted, “unfortunately the more time I spend explaining the intricacies of this medical procedure, the longer you’ll have to wait with the solution inside of you.” I shook my head - I wanted this over with as quickly as possible. 

The nurse rolled in a fresh selection of hanging bags, these larger and the solution clearer, like water. “I shall now lubricate this nozzle and insert it inside your rectum. Like with the catheter it has a small balloon that will seal around your sphincter to prevent any leakage.” I now knew that all of the at least a dozen bags the nurse had wheeled in would go inside of me. I’d thought with the solution for my bladder only a few would, but they were all now sloshing inside of me and stretching me out, so these enema bags all would too. 

I couldn’t see how all that solution would fit inside my bowels on its own, nevermind combined with the solution already inside me, but I couldn’t back out now.

I had never been interested in anal, and the foreign sensation of something cold and hard entering me below had me unintentionally clenching, but eventually it went in and the solution started flowing into me.

As before, the nurse only came in to quietly remove the empty enema bag and hook up a new ones leaving me alone to try and think about anything other than the constant pressure in my bladder and the growing pressure in my bowels for what felt like, and may have been, hours.

Once the final bag had been emptied into me the weight of the solution in my bowels created a constant pressure on the solution in my bladder. My belly was now so big I couldn’t even see the swell from my swollen bladder when I looked down. Every movement sloshed the solution around and sent an intense shock of pain through my body along with the urge to empty myself, but the balloon seals prevented any leakage whatsoever. 

I tried to lie as still as possible, tears prickling at my eyes as my stomach continued to slowly stretch and rise before my eyes. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you, I know this must be quite uncomfortable” the nurse said as she entered my room “but I need to ensure the solution reaches 

Looking at my swollen stomach, and thinking of the unbearable pressure in my bladder made me wonder how on earth there could be any parts of me the solution hadn’t reached. Still, tied to the bed as I was, I was in no position to turn her away and so tried to relax my muscles and control my breathing as she massaged my bulges with her hands. 

I expected the painful massage to have her moulding and smoothing my flesh, trying to coax the solution further into me. I didn’t expect her to suddenly slam the heel of her palm right into the bulge of my bladder. 

I screamed and thrashed, seeing stars. If I hadn’t trusted the clinic I’d have thought I’d burst, the pain was that intense. 

“Sorry about that, but sudden tension and spasms help the solution spread quicker” she said with the same unkind monotone as before. As much as it had hurt I breathed a sigh or relief - I would do anything to have this over with as quickly as possible. She repeated the procedure a number of times until I was completely incoherent.

She then placed both palms over the considerably bigger bulge of my solution-filled stomach, and, instead of slamming her hands down as she had on my bladder she slowly but firmly pushed down. I thought this slower pace was better, but as she leaned more and more of her body weight onto my swollen belly I realised just how much worse this was. “This is the fastest way” she said, and I nodded at her, through tears and grimaces. 

Less than a few minutes later she stopped pressing down and held her hands in place. My previously round and taut swollen stomach was deformed around her hands, flattened and contorting around them pushing even further on my bladder. I had screamed while it was happening but now could only lie still with my mouth gaping open at the intensity of the feeling. 

Finally she lifted her hands and my stomach bounced back, the force of the solution sloshing drawing quiet keening noises from me. 

“You should be capable of some extra bags now” she quickly left and wheeled in five more enema bags and hooked one up to the nozzle still in my ass, keeping the rest of the solution in. At this I actually screamed and she laughed as she left the room. Throughout the procedure I had been growing increasingly certain that this was not a genuine clinic, and now her laugh had all but confirmed it. I should have seen it from the beginning, but I was so desperate to get rid of the itching. 

She replaced the bags as she had before until they were all emptied and I felt like I would burst at any second. I had tried screaming and swearing at her, telling her I knew this wasn’t a real clinic and demanding she let me go, but she simply ignored me. Now I was in too much pain to do anything but lay on the medical bed watching my massive stomach jiggle with each breath and feeling each minuscule movement weighing me further and further down.

When it was finally over the doctor came back in, I didn’t even have the energy to stand the pain that would come from screaming at him.

“My nurse informs me you finally figured it out. I’d have liked a brighter test subject, but no matter, at least you’ve got quite the pain threshold. I’ll take you to your new quarters immediately” I stared at him slack jawed, disbelieving. Surely I was hallucinating from the pain? This couldn’t be real? Could it? 

“It’s funny, really” he continued “do you know what the itching you came to us for really was? Candida albicans. Simple thrush.” he said with a wide smile. “You shall make a fine specimen for physiological testing.” I was ashamed that such a simple issue had led to all this, and still couldn’t believe this was happening - people didn’t get experimented on and kidnapped in clinics. “But, I’m a fair man, tell you what: I’ll release your hands and feet, and if you make it out of the clinic in two minutes you’re free to go.” 

A new spark of hope spread through me and I realised this was my only shot to get out of here. As he released my wrists and ankles I realised I wouldn’t have time to deflate the bulbs in my bladder and bowel, and would have to run for my freedom. It was only a small set of rooms, but I had to make it out, otherwise who knows what would happen to me? As soon as I could move my legs I rolled off the medical bed and was immediately racked with waves of sensation as the solution inside my rolled around and pulled me to the ground. 

Steeling myself I managed to waddle out the procedure room’s door and with heavy steps made it halfway up the corridor to reception before I heard my tormentor call out with a laugh “60 seconds gone!”

I tried to speed up and struggled along my breaths coming heavy and laboured. After what felt like far longer than a minute I was a mere 10 feet to the door when I couldn’t take it any more and collapsed onto my front slamming my distended stomach into the ground with an agonising force. 

I could not give up though, who knows what would happen to me if I did? So I continued to crawl towards the door, just before I reached it though the doctor briskly walked passed my bloated form and stood in front of me. “You really thought you could make it? You've spent the past three minutes just trying to cross reception. How funny you looked waddling around like you were pregnant with multiples, trying to cross less than 20 feet.”

At this I wailed in shame and horror as my fate finally sunk in and the nurse wheeled in a gurney and together they lifted me now much heavier writhing form onto it. 

“I think you’ve met my wife,” the nurse waved with a cold smile “we conduct research together, and now you will join us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, all mistakes are mine, etc.
> 
> I haven't seen much intentional bladder inflation around, and was curious what it would read like,
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the smut!


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